


In Case You Don't Live Forever

by Ayre_You_There



Category: They Both Die at the End - Adam Silvera
Genre: Canon Gay Relationship, Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:31:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18404099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayre_You_There/pseuds/Ayre_You_There
Summary: What if the heat around Mateo wasn't flames from a blown stove, but just Rufus's warm arms? What if the impact of the car hitting Rufus was only the pressure of Mateo's skin? What if it wasn't quite over yet? What if they had one more moment to share on their little island?AU: They both die at the end, but their stories may not end as soon as they thought.(Also inspired by Ben Platt's new album, and his song "In Case You Don't Live Forever." I wanted to give these two one more chance to live, if not forever, but for at least one more moment.)





	In Case You Don't Live Forever

Rufus couldn’t feel anything for a moment. He expected to feel an arm when he stepped into the street, a familiar arm holding him back. He expected to hear a voice, a familiar voice saying, “if you cross the street without looking both ways on End Day, you’re asking for it, Roof.” But he heard neither. So he looked up.

            When he looked up, he didn’t see a familiar arm. He didn’t see a familiar face. Just light. Two lights. He didn’t feel anything either, or at least he didn’t feel enough. Not enough to care.

            He also didn’t feel the impact.

            He felt warmth. He felt soft pressure. He felt cotton. He felt smooth skin.

            He couldn’t see the light. Two lights. Neither of them. His eyes were closed.

            He opened them. Tears came down from them. So many tears came down from them. More, he was sure, than had ever come down from them. The cotton he could feel became damp cotton. The skin he could feel became wet skin. Still he couldn’t stop.

            “Mateo.”

            A groggy mumble, and then a jerk awake. “Hm, mm, wha—Roof, what, areyouokay?” His panicked, trembling voice. Rufus could only nod; he’d lost control of his trembling lips long ago. He hoped the nod would ease Mateo’s panic, but he still had his own to fight.

            He felt Mateo wrap his arms around him for a moment, felt the warmth envelope him, and felt himself tremble against his will. This was a feeling he never wanted to lose, this was a palace of warmth he never wanted to leave, a nest of flesh and breath keeping him safe. No world could break him here. Then he heard Mateo’s voice. And his world shattered.

            “Let me make some tea and you can tell me—“

            Rufus screamed. Screamed until his voice went hoarse and kept screaming. Screamed until he was sure his throat was bleeding and kept screaming. Wrapped his arms around Mateo and gripped, nails in his skin until that, too, was bleeding. His own blood and pain meant very little to him as long as Mateo was within his reach, was still in his sight.

            Finally he managed some words. “It’s the stove, Mat. It’s the stove. Don’t you dare touch it; don’t you dare leave this island.” He was sure his nails were scarring his arms by this point, but it didn’t matter. He could barely feel it.

            Horror struck Mateo’s face, and his eyes widened in understanding. He knew. He looked at the clock:  8:41pm. “How did you know?”

            Rufus’s heart was still beating at what he was beginning to fear was a lethal rate. He held onto Mateo and desperately tried to use the other’s breath to steady his own. After a moment, it did; after another moment he knew he could speak. His throat was sore and his voice was shallow, but he ignored it.

            “I thought it happened already…You left me, you left the island, our little island…there was fire, and smoke…lights, but the car felt like you and….” Rufus knew there was no way Mateo was following this chain of thoughts, but the grip on his hand conveyed nothing but trust. “Mateo, we have to get out of here.”

            Mateo took a deep breath, too slow for Rufus’s comfort. “Okay, I hear you, and I know how close I just came to…but shouldn’t we just stay here? On the bed? Isn’t that the safest? It’s only a few more hours.”

            Rufus shook his head. “PLEASE,” he begged. “What if the stove goes off on it’s own? Look, I will hold your hand the entire way, I will spend twenty minutes looking both ways at every crossing, but _please_ can we leave? We can go anywhere.”

            “We have nowhere to go.”

            Rufus grimaced; Mateo was right. 

            “Come with me.”

            “Where?”

            “Down the hall.”

            “What’s down the hall?”

            “Just come with me.”

            “Okay.”

            Begrudgingly, Rufus followed Mateo down to the door, giving the stove a foul, untrusting glare at each step, but breathing a sigh of relief after the door shut behind them. He followed down to a door marked “4A,” and jerked even more awake when Mateo started pounding on it.

            “SEAN! You there? Please, we need your help!”

            The door burst open so suddenly, Mateo nearly fell into the open gap, pulling Rufus off his already-unstable balance. After a recovery he was sure was embarrassingly slow, Rufus waved an awkward “hello” to the man.

            “Mateo, are you okay?! What—“

            “I need to disconnect the stove now. Can you help?”

            Bless Sean. Rufus couldn’t remember the last time he was so grateful for the kindness of a human being (save for maybe Mateo, and the myriad of other people he was indebted to after today). Sean didn’t argue, he didn’t fight, he didn’t ask why, he didn’t ask for details; he simply walked into his home, grabbed a box of tools, walked into Mateo’s home, and worked until the stove was 3 feet away from the wall.

            “There. She won’t gas up, she won’t spark, she won’t heat up; she’s basically one clunky-ass paperweight. Is that what you wanted?”

            “I trust you, Sean,” Rufus heard Mateo say. “But are you absolutely _sure, CERTAIN_ that it’s safe?”

            Sean nodded. “I’d sleep in this room myself. Soundly,” he added without hesitation.

            Good enough for Rufus. And Mateo.

            And so they found themselves back in their room. On their little island. At 11:24pm, with less than one hour to spare.

            “I know how we can kill that time,” Mateo mumbled softly, sheepishly.

            Rufus didn’t reply. He just kissed him. And kissed him. Neither one of them stopped until the clock rang 12:00am, midnight. The night was no longer about surviving; it was about living. Flourishing.


End file.
